


Honey Revenge

by LordFrieza



Category: Friday Night Funkin' (Video Game), Pico's School (Video Game)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Blackmail, Breaking and Entering, Death Threats, Declarations Of Love, Drinking, Emotional Manipulation, Extortion, F/M, First Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insomnia, Intimidation, M/M, Mercenaries, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Murder, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Possessive Behavior, Predator/Prey, Schizophrenia, Smoking, Stalking, Swearing, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere, bf is called keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-20 18:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30009273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordFrieza/pseuds/LordFrieza
Summary: A new job has an old obsession of Pico's rearing it's ugly head.Turning a one-night affair into a long term hunt.But he could wait. He'd wait as long as need be.Because this predator always got his prey.
Relationships: Boyfriend (Friday Night Funkin') & Pico (Pico's School), Boyfriend (Friday Night Funkin')/Pico (Pico's School), Boyfriend/Girlfriend (Friday Night Funkin')
Comments: 25
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! So this story is actually based on the song [Honey Revenge by Dance Gavin Dance!](https://youtu.be/2OUsprVGUsc) I insist you take a listen if you'd like as a little teaser as to what this story is pretty much going to turn into haha.
> 
> The entire premise of the story will slowly tie in with the song as we go along, so.... heed the tags please!
> 
> And without any further ado, ENJOY!

"Yeah, yeah. How 'bout you give me the time and place already, eh, old man? I don't have all _fucking night._ "

Pico could care less how snappy he came across as he huffed the demand into the receiver. He was seriously losing his patience with this asshole. It had been nearly a _half hour already_ , and he barely had any information on this supposed new 'job' of his. God, he sometimes wished he'd end his misery by putting a bullet through the old fucker's head instead of whatever unlucky soul he asked the redhead to take out instead. Then again, Dearest wasn't a man to trifle with. Nor was Pico stupid enough to bite the hand that fed him either.

He heard a grumble from the other side, some hushed quibble about how uncouth the youth of today was or some shit. Psh. Like he could give a flying fuck what the douchebag thought of him. This was just another job, like any other. They weren't friends, ha! Furthest thing from it; so like hell was he gonna sit here and listen to the old bastard continue to ramble on about whatever this new 'pest' was doing to ruin his life this time. He would get whatever information he needed, and then from there, Pico would do what he did best. 

_Kill._

After a few more seconds of obnoxious bellyaching from his contractor, the other's voice returned in full, a hefty sigh meeting the younger man's ear first.

"Hah... Fine. You're lucky you're one of the best mercenaries around, or I'd have found someone else to do my bidding by now. Your attitude is just atrocious. Well, anywho! You should be able to find the little brat at Fox Chase sometime between 18:25 and 19:25 tomorrow night. I sent him there with the notion that he'll be meeting me for a rematch."

Ok, he could work with— Wait, _'rematch'_? What? The red-head's eyebrows furrowed as he repeated the word in his head. 

Oh, yeah. That's right. He could vaguely remember the SOB drawling on about him losing to the target at... karaoke or something? It had him briefly wondering if that was the only reason Dearest wanted this guy dead or not. If it was, that was pretty fucking petty, to be honest. But hell, Pico wasn't one to judge. He could give a shit whether the job was over some botched karaoke match and Dearest was being a sore-ass loser, or if someone just happened to look at the old man wrong one day and the geezer decided he never wanted them to see him, or the light of day, ever again.

Pico wasn't paid to form opinions.

"Alright. Consider it done."

He replied almost instantaneously, voice dripping in self-assurance. And why wouldn't it be? Dearest wasn't wrong in calling him one of the best mercenaries out there. 

_The best_ , if you asked him.

A delighted hum answered him in return, Dearest's rumbling laughter filling his ears for a moment before finally stifling them. The older man's next few words were sung far too sweetly into Pico's ear for his liking, making the younger man hold the phone away on instinct.

"Ah! Always so quick to the punch, aren't you? Haha! Well, it's certainly wonderful to be doing business with you again. And I sure hope you can get this one over and done with quickly. Remember: As always, I'm counting on you, Pico."

That final statement had Pico growling under his breath. Was the fucker really underestimating him right now? He'd get the fucking job done, just like he always did. A harsh grunt was all that he remitted to the older man as the redhead rolled his silver eyes, finally deciding to answer; timbre spiteful.

"Tch. Why don't you start counting my reward instead, old man. If I said it's done, it's _done_."

Another booming tumult of laughter met the redhead again, forcing him to pull the phone away from his ear fully this time, scowling down at the device in hand before returning it to his skull, the last few of Dearest's parting words filtering through the mic.

"Hahaha! But of course! You've always pulled through for me. How could I ever doubt you? Well, I look forward to your confirmation call then! And thus concludes this one. Goodnight, _dearest Pico._ "

Once he finally heard that familiar beep signaling the call had ended, Pico tossed the phone aside, slumping back against the lumpy cushions of the couch. Reaching over the right arm, he took hold of half a cigarette still burning away in the ashtray atop the dusty end-table there. Pressing the cancer stick to his lips, he inhaled deep before releasing a puff of billowy smoke up into the air, watching lazily as the gray clouds dissipated against the cracked eggshell ceiling overhead. Hm. Maybe he should crack open a window or something. The neighbors would probably complain to the landlord about him smoking inside again. 

His silvery orbs trailed down from overhead to the window across the room then, dancing over the little moonlight that trickled in through the broken blinds and cascaded down onto the dirty linoleum floor. 

Nah. Fuck them. They could deal with it.

Taking another strong puff of nicotine, he pressed further into the knobbly mass against his back as he let his body fully relax, free hand trailing over the metal death instrument tucked away snuggly against his thigh. 

Fox Chase, huh? That station wasn't too far from his apartment actually. The timing could have been a lot better though. A little after sunset. Teetering on dangerous there. Well, it's not like Pico hadn't killed in broad daylight before either. No. But night was just easier with what he did for a living. He was far more concealed when it was pitch black out. The fewer prying eyes the better as it made for less consequences. And ultimately the less unnecessary bloodshed to follow said consequences.

Still, it wasn't an awful location. Better than the last one at least. Trains still passed through on occasion, but Fox Chase itself was far less frequented than some of the other stations around. Some talk of reconstruction that had yet to unfold had it standing practically empty most days. Of course, like always, there would likely still be a few stragglers, most definitely if given his luck, but those could easily be calculated for if things got out of hand. As they always were. But seriously. Who was he to blame if a few nobodies happened to get caught in the crossfire anyways? Dearest never minded a couple casualties. 

Heh. 

And God only knows, _neither did he_.

Dearest's description of the target had been subpar, but sufficient enough that Pico had a relatively decent idea of what they looked like. Again, if he happened to be wrong though, what was one or two fatalities if not just some initial target practice? He'd eventually pin his real quarry one way or another. He'd make sure of it. There was no other outcome. 

There _never_ was. 

Yet, as brief the elucidation was, it differed greatly from what he'd been given of his previous hits. For instance, Dearest claimed this target was around Pico's own age, about 18 or 19 actually, give or take. Although it was quite a bit younger than his other hunts, Pico would hardly put it past the old fucker to hire him to kill a small child even, if he so felt like it. 

And, as always, Pico would do so without question.

Now, he wasn't usually one to muse over the cursory depictions of his hits. It tied in with how he refused to take names. Names were forbidden. Made the whole ordeal more personal. Complicated shit. Even without proper evocation, he deduced that even amongst a crowd, he'd weed his kill out eventually. 

However, that said, this was so unlike the usual blase info he received that it had him curious. Like another interesting detail he'd been given: the targets height. Sure, he'd been told the guy was in his teens, supposedly, but Dearest had claimed he was short. Like, _short_ short. Standing at a whopping 145 cm _at most_. Now, Pico himself wasn't all that tall either, around 159.72 cm. Which was practically 5'3" at that point. And no, that summation was not up for discussion.

Even still, he wasn't self conscious about his height in the slightest, especially when it stood for jack shit against his fucking firepower. Still, he'd take anyone's goddamned kneecaps out if they ever dared to speak down to him like some fucking kid. But this guy was fucking shorter than him? Like a whole _half foot shorter?_ The hell? Eh. Maybe he was just being hypercritical at this point. There were undoubtedly shorter people out there around the same age, this he knew, but it was just so... unwonted.

In addition to this, supposedly the target's attire was some 'young hipster drab' or something along those lines. 'Horrendously oversized clothes draped over a measly frame', as the old bastard had put it. Dearest had refused to clarify any further on it when asked, though, leaving Pico with whatever scantily unhelpful mental image he could procure from it. But it'd suffice. 

He'd have to get to the set location earlier to prepare, like usual. About an hour should be enough. Which begged the final question, what weapon should he bring? A semi, obviously. The M16 hidden away in the closet would be a good choice. He'd need a sound suppressor for that though. And it was big. Far bigger than he felt comfortable carrying around a still functioning train station. Maybe his MAC-10 then? No. The accuracy would be way off as it only had an effective range of around 50 yards or so. Which ultimately led to the answer being, as it usually wound up, the trusty hunk of metal by his side. 

His beloved UZI. 

Yeah, it'd be the best bet given he could easily hide it from sight if need be, not to mention—

"AH! Fuck! _Fuck!!_ "

A sudden burning sensation against his hand broke his train of thought, making him curse aloud against the overbearing silence of the room. _Shit!_ His fucking cigarette! He'd forgotten all about it. The self-rolled paper had burned away down to the butt, leaving a nasty burn between his fore and middle finger as it fully died out. Lip twitching in annoyance, he swiped the back of his hand against his khaki's, leaving a smear of grey in it's wake as he rubbed the ashen remains of the burned out tube onto them. Dammit! He'd been hoping to finish that one, too! That's what he got for overthinking this shit.

Enough. He didn't need to think. He was an A-Class Hunter. 

A predator.

_And this predator always got his prey._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enshrouded in darkness, he pulled the submachine gun out from under his shirt, trailing his digits over the polished metal as he stared out into the dim lights fringing the tracks before him.
> 
> Now all he had to do was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooo! So, this chapter is more or less just to set the stage for the more problematic stuff to come. It's all going to gradually worsen as we go I think, but I couldn't just dive headfirst into it!
> 
> Although I tried to. But it had this chapter dragging on for almost double it's length, so now that second half is the start of the third chapter instead. Yaaaay!
> 
> Plus what's a little (not really) cliffhanger to get ya really going, right? 
> 
> Hope ya guys enjoy!

Whoever the hell spouted that 'early to bed and early to rise' shit, obviously wasn't directing the message to those dealing with crippling insomnia _every damn night._

Most nights it was a miracle if Pico even managed to shut his eyes for more than a few seconds before his mind was buzzing again. Every goddamn demon in his skull deciding to come alive at that very moment to torment him with an endless onslaught of intrusive thoughts. All but forcing him to relive each and every regret he'd ever had in his life in whatever few short hours he had left before daybreak. 

It was a kind of sick fucking torture, really.

Subconsciously knowing that the rest of the world was fast asleep, and yet, being unable to submit to that lovely, encompassing darkness himself no matter how hard he tried. The voices in his head growing louder as he pulled at his hair, thin fingers prying at his scalp; dull fingernails scraping against his skull in an attempt to just... fucking shut them up for once! Only to immediately regret it once they did finally recede. Instantly making him realize just how quiet it was, how all consuming the silence could be. Leading him to begging for the voices to return, if only to fill the void with something, anything to stifle the suffocating nothing that surrounded him.

And the ever slowly emerging awareness of just how _alone_ he truly was.

They wouldn't return though. No matter how much he pleaded for them to. Never when he _actually_ wanted them to. He'd be forced to wallow in the insufferable quietude on his own until he finally managed to pry his eyes open at whatever ungodly hour it happened to be.

Just like every other night. 

Silver pools snapped open wide, blinking harshly against the pale light streaming in through the disheveled shutters of the window across the grungy, old couch he lay upon. He fought for sleep here most nights now. Didn't even try for the bed anymore. There wasn't a point if the outcome was always the same. His left hand grabbed at the knotty fabric beneath him, scrabbling to take his phone in hand from where it had dropped between the cushions. Finally grasping the device he brought it up to his face, only to hiss at the bright screen that blinded his weary eyes, hiding the tired orbs behind their lids till they grew more accustomed to the light. 

Then, flicking them open again, he checked the time. 

16:44.

_Shit._

That was much later than he would have liked. If he'd somehow managed some real shut eye last night, this meant he would have slept through half the day already. Ha. What a fucking thought _that_ was. Too bad that in actuality he barely got an hour of real peace before the voices of the damned had decided to kick in. _Again._

At least they were quiet now.

Rather, _for now_.

Heaving himself up from his lax position, he swung his legs down from their place dangling over the far arm of the couch, planting his feet firmly onto the floor before scrubbing away at his sore eyes with the back of his knuckles. God, he was so tired. Blinking rapidly in a fruitless attempt to rid himself of the sleeplessness from his vision, he noted five new holes lining the foot of the littered wall in front of him. That meant... 

Eyes widening, he fumbled for his UZI tossed a foot or so across the couch, and yanked out the mag. 13 rounds left. Yep. So, it was just as he figured. He must have shot at the wall again amidst his fight with the wonderful auditory hallucinations that plagued his mind last night. That plagued his mind _every_ night. Great. His neighbors most definitely heard _that_. Which meant, that _he_ would be hearing from the landlord again soon enough. Fucking fantastic.

Whatever. He didn't have time for this. Not now.

He had a job he needed to get ready for.

Waking up this late wasn't ideal in the sense that, one: waking up meant fuck all if you never fell asleep to begin with, and two, what little time he already had to prepare for the hunt was cut down to... Sunken silvery orbs trailed over to check the time on his phone again: 16:53. Mh. Cut down to the 32 minutes or so that he had left if he wanted to be ready at least an hour before the appointed schedule. No, scratch that. 15 minutes, as he still needed to get to the damn destination first before he could even get situated. 

Glancing down at himself, he took in the stained attire hugging his frame. He'd fallen asleep in his clothes. Or, well, _feigned sleep_ in them. Not an unusual feat for him, as it happened periodically, but this was the third time in a row this week alone. Lifting one arm, he took hold of the green fabric of the sleeve adorning it, and with his opposite hand, pulled it to his nose to take a whiff. Eh. Could be worse. Not like he was seeking to impress anyone where he was heading anyways.

Running a hand through the chaotic mass of red atop his head, he straightened the messy loose hairs as best he could before finally pushing himself up and off the couch. Stumbling a bit, he braced a fist on his knee as his head tried to right itself. The room had begun to spin around him from the abrupt movement, and he dug the heel of his palm in his sockets until the swimming in his vision gradually came to a stop. Damn. This shit was really getting out of hand. He probably should invest in some sleeping pills or something. Not like they'd do anything though. Never did before.

But weed on the other hand...

Maybe he'd finally give Darnell a call later this week.

After regaining himself and standing right side up again, he affixed his UZI comfortably to his side, tucking his phone away into the deep pocket of his khaki's, but not before glancing at the screen one last time. 16:56. Alright, that left him with the 17 minutes he needed to get to down to the station, and 12 minutes to secure a spot to wait it out till the proposed arrival of his target. 

Well, time to get a move on.

Opting to take a bus instead of walking all the way, he managed to halve his time in getting to Fox Chase, making the entire trip there about 8 minutes total as the station slowly came into view. 

Plodding his way over the dilapidated concrete slabs that bordered the drop down to the train tracks below, his eyes scanned the area, fingers briefly brushing over the cool metal of the UZI tucked away beneath his shirt. The sun was slowly setting behind the tall residential buildings in the distance, painting the surrounding territory in a brilliant bluish, pink hue. Slipping his cell out from his pocket, he pressed the home button, eyes narrowing at the numbers it displayed. 17:09. Good. He was making good time.

From where he stood, he could easily make out about seven people in total. Two homeless men using a makeshift lean-to propped against the run-down head house to his right, a few more shadier looking individuals talking amongst themselves in the shadows off to the far left, and an openly shameless couple getting it on on the ground not even six feet away. So, all in all, not the worst turnout. There wouldn't be too many witnesses he'd have to take care of at least, if any, really. Most of these people had such a detached sort of air to them, they probably wouldn't even bat an eye if some stranger just so happened to be taken out right in front of them. 

Still, speculation wasn't reliable. And Pico didn't like to gamble.

After traversing the entirety of the station three times over to get a feel for the area, he had determined the best place to lie low. The time was nearing 17:25, and he was more than ready. Enshrouded in darkness, he pulled the submachine gun out from under his shirt, trailing his digits over the polished metal as he stared out into the dim lights fringing the tracks before him.

Now all he had to do was wait.

And not for too long either, it seemed.

47 minutes later, approximately 18:12, and two new bodies were making their way up to the railroad line. He couldn't quite make out their silhouettes yet, but Pico had the undeniable feeling that one of them was most definitely his objective. The ignorant fuck had probably decided to come early to try and make a good impression on Dearest. Punctual little shit. Between these two new arrivals and Pico himself, the horny couple had left almost 22 minutes ago now, leaving the two homeless men and three probable drug dealers as the only other bystanders still hanging around. The odds were just progressively falling in Pico's favor tonight, weren't they?

A smirk tugged at the corner of the redhead's mouth as his chromatic pools followed the two oblivious subjects setting themselves up by the tracks. 

_Too fucking easy._

Slinking his way through the helpful blanket of darkness provided by the eaves overhanging the several waiting sheds running along the platform, he ducked down behind one of the honeycombed sheets that girdled the structures. Cautiously peeking his head around the metal panel, he carefully took in the two figures features that were now discernible thanks to the weak lighting overhead.

Upon closer inspection, he could make out that one of them was a white-skinned female with long auburn hair. Although the girl happened to be seated atop a large speaker near the edge of the platform, he could still tell she was a bit taller than himself. Probably around 165 cm at the most, he concluded. She was dressed in a particularly flashy sleeveless red dress with heels to match. Huh. Pretty conspicuous getup for just a trip down to the train station. And there was this... sudden uncanny feeling of unease he got from staring at her frame; distantly reminding him of something or _someone_ , but unable to pinpoint exactly what or who. 

He let it go, however. It didn't matter. She wasn't the one he was looking for.

That would be the shorter male happily prattling away below her.

Only the male's back was visible to Pico at the moment, caught up in conversation with the girl. He decided to risk taking a few steps out from where he stood behind the metal bulwark, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to make out his target's attributes more clearly. Only to stop breathing altogether as the squat male suddenly turned around.

_No._

No, no, no. There was _no way._

Hahaha! There was _no fucking way_ this was for real! 

Unable to stop himself, Pico tossed his head back, loud, cacophonous laughter soon erupting from the back of his throat. The uproarious cachinnation echoed throughout the barren station, startling the two unaware personages a few feet in front of him. The shorter of the two had taken a defensive stance before the hefty sound system the female was sat upon, his wary dark eyes roaming the darkness that still effectively hid the redhead's form from view.

God, it all made _so much sense_ now.

Wiping a stray tear from his eye after his hysterics died down, Pico stepped out into the muted light of the arching lampposts above, surveying the smaller male with each footfall. The little simper the redhead had plastered on his face gradually turning into a full fledged shit-eating grin as he continued to stride forward, voice like gravel as he eyed his _prey._

"Of fucking course it would be _you._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Second chapter already??? Man, hope I don't burn out at this rate. 
> 
> My streak of never finishing fanfictions is screaming at me from the beyond, but for now I'm still going to try and pump these out as fast as possible!
> 
> Hope this chapter wasn't too dull, like I said, I gotta set everything up before tearing it all down! XDD
> 
> Next chapter things heat up a bit, so I hope this still grabbed your attention enough to wait it out!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All he had to do was curl the digit back just a little more and— BANG! He'd be dead. Bullet straight through the fucking head. He could do it. He _could..._
> 
> But...
> 
> **You still love him, don't you, Pico?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooo! This story would have been up much earlier, but unfortunately, I've been working nonstop these past couple days haha! Getting home at 11pm at night after working 9 hours straight just doesn't really leave me with enough energy to write unfortunately.
> 
> One good thing is that I'm glad I can post this before I go into surgery tomorrow! So, hooray!
> 
> I hope it's easy to follow, though. I kind of fought with myself through this chapter, and am still not entirely sure if I'm happy with it in it's completion.
> 
> Still, I hope you guys like it nonetheless! And enjooooy!
> 
> P.S. I decided to go ahead and call BF- Keith in this as it will ultimately make things easier as I go (I know it's not entirely canon compliant, but hey! Neither is this story haha!)

Every inch Pico closed in on the flustered male, the more each and every little evocative detail of his was put on display. That old oversized red cap turned backwards in an attempt to seem cool, which only capitalized on coming off as winsome if nothing else; wispy tufts of unruly cyan hair sticking out from under the sweatband; clothes far to big for his size, resulting in them always appearing overly baggy and loose in proportion. And those eyes. Shimmering jet black pools a stark contrast amidst milky white skin, peppered with the faintest of freckles. 

Fuck. 

He was just as cute as the redhead remembered.

"P-Pico?"

Oh _yes._ And his name still sounded just as nice in his mouth, too.

Amidst the standoff that occured between the two boys then, the auburn-haired woman had hopped down from her place atop her massive audial throne. Her hand gently came to rest upon the shorter male's shoulder as she looked from her bewildered companion to the sinister-looking redhead standing before them. Her voice emanating a shrewd uncertainty as she broke the residual silence with a question of her own.

"Do you two... know each other?" 

The question nearly had Pico reeling as he sniggered under his breath, but he held in the desire to break out into a full fit of laughter again. Oh, this bitch had _no fucking idea._ Instead, he chose to kindly humour her with an excessively ribald response before the other male could have a chance to answer it for himself.

"'Know each other?' Heh. More like I used to know _every inch of him._ "

He watched with a sick satisfaction the way a heavy crimson immediately took over the younger man's face at his words, the sight tugging the redhead's grin even wider; teeth baring. Metallic orbs eagerly observing the way the shorter grew all the more flustered when the girl beside him merely replied with an amused ' _Oh_ ' under her breath. 

The blue-haired male was soon stumbling over himself, resulting in the flush embellishing his cheeks crawling further up over his ears, until he finally cleared his throat; squeaking out a different query in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

" _Ahem—!_ Um, Pico... Wh-What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in forever..."

Said redhead quirked an eyebrow at this, his fingers unconsciously dragging along the firearm hidden in his shirt again before shoving both hands deep into his pockets. 

"I could ask you the same thing. Tell me: What do you _think_ you're doing here?"

The redhead's silver eyes lidded in amusement as visible confusion washed over the shorter's face for a fraction before finally trying at a plausible answer. His speech pausing ever so often as if thinking each word over before letting it fall from his lips.

"I'm, um... Here to meet my girlfriend's dad for a, uh... _Rap battle?_ "

Ah. Well, that answered that. The auburn-haired chick was Dearest's daughter apparently. No wonder her presence had felt so eerily familiar to him.

He chose to ignore the way the _'girlfriend'_ part of that sentence almost instantly had him seeing red, though.

It wasn't working very well.

The shorter boy's answer had a sort of lilt towards the end, making it seem as if he was asking the redhead for confirmation instead, unsure of himself now that the interrogation had been turned onto him. Pico's eyes fell to near slits as he took up a steady pace trudging towards the other once more, left hand discreetly slipping further up under the hem of his shirt with every step.

"Really? Is that right?"

In an instant, Pico went from being a good three feet or so away to not even five centimeters from the other boy's face. The tip of his UZI pressed firmly against the middle of the blue-haired's forehead, taking hold of the collar of the shorter's shirt in his fist; a menacing sneer decorating his face. His words now dripping with malice as he took in the smaller's newly terrified moue at the sudden change of tone. 

"You sure it's not for a _death wish?_ "

"Woah, P-Pico!? D-Dude, wh-what are you—?!"

_Why?_

Why the _fuck_ was that silly little statement bothering him so damn much? What should he care if the guy had a girlfriend now? It had been nearly 3 years since he'd last seen him, let alone dated him. Pico had the shorter practically dangling in he air from just how tightly he was gripping onto his shirt; their noses almost brushing. He shouldn't give two _fucks_ whether the little shit was with someone else now or not. It wasn't any of _his_ fucking business. 

So why in the absolute _hell_ did it feel like his blood was on _fucking fire_ the more he thought about it?

**Because you miss him, Pico.**

He felt his heart stop short as a disembodied voice sung the chilling speculation directly into the shell of his ear. His throat went dry as he clenched his teeth down hard enough to break his jaw. No! Why the hell were they talking to him _now_ of all times?! This never happened before! Fuck! The shorter boy was reduced to a mess of incoherent stuttering then as Pico shoved the muzzle of the gun further into his skull, shaking his head rapidly side to side as he spoke aloud, forcing himself to drown out the ghostly words ringing in his ears.

"Sorry to say it, _pretty boy_ , but you weren't sent here to meet Dearest. You were sent here to meet _me._ More specifically, me _and my gun._ "

**Because he used to be yours, Pico.**

ARRRGH! Shut _up!_ Shut the _FUCK UP!_

Slipping the tip of his tongue between his teeth, he clamped down on it hard, feeling the well known taste of iron flood his mouth as he pierced the flesh. 

The auburn-haired girl, the so-called _'girlfriend'_ , had tried to force herself between them, but a viciously daring glare Pico sent her way had her frozen in place.

"Uh... _Huh?_ "

The redhead's attention snapped back to the male in his grip again at the confused inflection.

Goddamn this fucking son of a bitch and his stupidly endearing lack of a brain. 

"Ah _c'mon_. I know you're dense as hell, but I'm holding a fucking gun up to your head. Do ya seriously not get it yet? He hired me to _kill you_ , Keith."

 _God_ did that name still taste just as good on his tongue.

Maybe even _better_ than he remembered it being.

He became acutely aware of just how close they were then. Pico could count every singular little freckle dotting the blue-haired boy, _Keith's_ , face; could taste the stale air of each of their shared baited breaths; could feel the warmth of the smaller male's body pressed up against his knuckles; could trace each unique crack lining his chapped lips.

And could see exactly how bewitching the pale overhead lights looked reflected like tiny stars in those pitch-black eyes.

**He's still so pretty, isn't he, Pico?**

A spot of blood dripped off his lip, splashing softly against his captive's cheek and trailing down over his creamy skin before plummeting to the ground from the tip of his chin.

_...Yeah. He really is._

"Wait- He _what?!_ So, th-that means y-you're really gonna—!"

Keith began to fidget in the redhead's hold once the revelation of what was said began to fully sink in, ebony pools widening comically as Pico remained still; silent.

He could do it. He could kill him. He _should._ Right now. God only knows what the hell Dearest would do to him if he didn't. He was in the perfect position to. His finger on the trigger; barrel of the gun pressed up right between those mesmerizing dark eyes. All he had to do was curl the digit back just a little more and— BANG! He'd be dead. Bullet straight through the fucking head. He could do it. He _could..._

But...

**You still love him, don't you, Pico?**

"No."

_Yeah._

He stepped back, lowering the UZI to his side, and spitting the accumulating blood pooling in his mouth out onto the pavement below.

"Not anymore."

_I do._

The shorter male struggled to regather himself after abruptly being dropped back onto solid ground. Blinking perplexedly up at the redhead, his mouth speedily opening and closing like an out of water fish as he tried to formulate a somewhat cohesive thought at the precipitous turn of events.

"Buh-... Wha-? I- You— _Huuuh!?_ But didn't you just say—"

"I know what I said. And now I'm telling you, that I'm not going through with it. What? Did you really want to die _that badly?_ "

As quickly as he'd dropped it to his hip, he whipped the UZI back up, lining it up in direct line of the smaller's forehead.

"Well, if that's what you want, by all means then. Makes this shit a hell of a lot easier for _me._ "

The smaller boy nearly jumped out of his skin as the gun was aimed at him again, restoring the smug smirk Pico had been adorning before back to his face from just that cute little reaction alone. Keith soon began hastily waving his hands out and about in front of him in a placating motion, choking out a nervous laugh as he fervently shook his head.

"Ahaha! Uh, n-no, no! Th-That's not what I meant! I just... What are you planning on doing now, if you're not here to kill me anymore?"

Pico swung his UZI back to his side a second time, tapping his fingers against the grip as rolled his head over his shoulders, letting the blue-haired male's question toss around in his head. The weight of the metal instrument in his hand a recognizable comfort as he thought over the few possible courses of action he had left at his disposal. What _was_ he going to do? Since he decided to spare Keith, that meant the hunt was a total bust now.

Well, then again...

** You still want him, don't you, Pico? **

"Hey, Keith. You said that you were here for a rap battle or something, didn't you?"

Maybe not entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Another chapter! A bit shorter than I was initially going for, but I'm excited for the next chapter, so that might be why I cut it's length a bit haha!
> 
> We can see how Pico's little auditory friends are just hopping on that reawakened affection towards Keith, though, huh?
> 
> And, like I said before, I am supposed to have surgery done for my back tomorrow so I'll be away in boston for a few days, but I'll still try to write as I go! Haha!
> 
> Hope ya enjoyed this little chapter, and are as hyped about shit hitting the fan soon as much as I am!

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooo! I'm into something new AGAIN! WOWWW lookie that—
> 
> Well, anywho! This is my first FNF fanfic ever! I've recently fallen headfirst into the cavernous hellscape of this fandom and am dutifully crawling in deeper by providing my own content! Hoorayyy!
> 
> I hope I don't offend anyone with my portrayal of Pico and the rest of the gang here, this is just my silly little take on some yandere Pico. (There's just not enough out there smh)
> 
> Well, hope ya liked and stay tuned for mooooore!!!


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